


Rectifying the Past

by infectedscrew



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Dick wants to help, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Tim is sad, it's an uphill battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 02:18:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6781405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infectedscrew/pseuds/infectedscrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Learning about Tim is a battle that Dick is willing to fight and healing every past bruise is a major victory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rectifying the Past

It was absolutely normal for Tim Drake to not talk for days on end, sometimes even weeks. He was perfectly content to seal himself up in his room and spend hours working on reports. The silence was welcoming for him. Breaks of noise bothered him, rattled his nerves and set him on edge. If he had his way, he’d make his walls and windows sound proof just so he could stay in a world of peace. This habit of quiet had been there for as long as he could remember, and he could remember quite far.

In fact, he was pretty sure it started when he’d yelled at his mother from the top of the stairs. He’d been hungry and after searching for the house keeper to no avail, he’d settled for the maternal. She had not been happy about it. Instead she’d snapped at him that ‘the best children where the kind that were never seen nor heard’. And while he knew she was only snippy because she’d been unable to contact the Egyptian Embassy, he’d still taken that advice to heart.

It’d certainly served him well in his later years, what with his choice of night time occupation.

This constant need to be hidden from others and silent had bled into all parts of his life. He’d kept his school successes to himself. Even his innovative photography he’d hidden away in a shoebox he shoved under his bed. Once he’d made the mistake of showing his parents a photo he’d gotten recently of Batman and the, then, Robin. His father had waved him away while his mother asked why he wasn’t studying. He didn’t blame them. They’d just gotten back from the Czech Republic after all and they had been tired. The last thing they wanted was something to stop them from heading to bed. That meant his report cards, enthusiastically graded essays, photography jaunts and anything else that could be bothersome where squirreled away in places only he knew about.

Tim was unconcerned about things being 'put on the fridge’ as it were. He wasn’t at all annoyed that the only people who’d witnessed his hobby were himself and Bruce Wayne. He was perfectly content to stay in his shell of peace, all wrapped in silence and invisibility.

Dick Grayson, on the other hand, was very concerned about this. He wasn’t an oblivious person, whatever the rest of the world thought. He knew when people were hiding over when they just didn’t know how to speak. Since he’d come into contact with Tim, the most basic fact he’d learned was that Tim hated to talk about himself–whether it was because he deemed it bothersome to the listener or because he just didn’t want someone to know.

Which was why Dick was determined to prove that Timothy Jackson Drake was a better human being than he got credit for. There was nothing the former Boy Wonder had ever done in the past or future that would be nearly as difficult. Because Tim rarely offered any facts, Dick had to search for them himself. The easiest place to get facts was school. Every once in awhile Dick would scrounge around Tim’s apartment in search of his backpack.

On this particular Thursday, Dick managed to finally get something that Tim hadn’t hidden away from the world. And Dick, as boisterous as ever, was more than happy to praise him for it.

“Timmy!” He called, not bothering to knock on Tim’s bedroom door as he barged right on in.

The silence that was welcoming to Tim was almost suffocating Dick, even with the split second that it existed.

Tim paused in his work to look up and over at Dick. His face was nearly expressionless, but an edge of exhaustion lingered about his eyes. If he could, Dick would force Tim to sleep, even if it meant sitting on him.

“Do people in Bludhaven not knock?” Tim asked, voice dry.

Never to be deterred, Dick strode across the room, waving the paper. “Not when it’s important,” he replied. “Have you seen this?”

For a moment Tim looked curious. He took the paper from Dick and glanced it over. The curiosity died and he set the paper, face down, on the desk. “It’s just a test.”

“Just a test?” Dick repeated, easily moving around Tim’s chair to snag the paper again. “Timmy! You got an A on a Trigonometry test! That’s amazing.”

Tim’s expression clearly stated that he didn’t agree. He focused his gaze on the computer screen, not replying.

Dick shook the paper. “We should get pizza.”

Another pause in the reports and Tim looked up, frowning. “Why?”

“To celebrate,” Dick said triumphantly.

“Celebrate what?” Obviously, Tim just wasn’t understanding Dick’s excitement.

Once more Dick shook the paper at Tim. “Your amazing score!”

Tim’s frown deepened, making him look far older than he really was. “I always get that,” he said, so matter-of-fact that Dick had to stare. Good grades were normally something encouraged and wonderful. Tim seemed to think it was just a basic duty that if he failed he would be the scum of the universe.

“No way,” Dick said, in awe. “Let me see!”

Before Tim could stop him, Dick had snagged the computer and yanked it over. All Bats knew how to get into a school system. It was useful skill when looking up potential drug dealers in high schools. Right now, Dick was using the skill to check Tim’s report card. Sure enough, everything boasted an A or, at the very least, a high B. It made Dick whistled, impressed.

“Whoa. That’s awesome.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dick watched a faint pink cross Tim’s cheeks.

“Not really. They’re just grades. Can I have my computer back?”

Dick ignored him, still going through the class lists. “Tim, have you shown these to Bruce?”

There was an almost audible swallow on Tim’s part. He shook his head ever so slightly. “No, I don’t need to bother him with this. He’s got better things to deal with.”

That made Dick go ram-rod straight. He looked down at Tim, face so close to a glare (frankly, it made Tim a little nervous). “Tim, this is important stuff. Your grades are amazing. I’m sure he’d be pleased to see them.”

Tim shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “No, it’s fine.”

Dick shook his head and dropped a hand onto Tim’s shoulder. “Babybird, you’ve gotta learn that it’s not a bad thing to get an A.” Tim’s continued hesitation made Dick sigh softly. “You don’t have to tell him. But… At least let me order us a pizza?”

Silence dropped over the pair for a full minute. Then, “okay.”

The word was so quiet Dick almost didn’t catch it. His hand tightened on Tim’s shoulder. It shouldn’t be a battle to compliment someone. He knelt down, hand sliding from shoulder to arm.

“Hey, Timmy. Look at me?”

Tim instantly obeyed, he always did. That exhaustion had thickened, made him all the more vulnerable looking.

“I want to know when you get A’s on tests, okay?”

“But why? It’s not important and it takes time out of your day.”

Dick fought the urge to shake Tim’s shoulders. Instead, he managed a calming breath. “Because it’s important to me. It let’s me know you’re still doing well. So… Please, just for my sanity, show me your tests?”

Tim searched Dick’s face, for what Dick had no idea. Finally the teenager nodded. It should have been a victory but Dick knew Tim only agreed because Dick had asked. Otherwise he never would have nodded. This wasn’t the first time that Dick wanted to hold him and tell him the long, bulleted list of just what made Tim Drake a fantastic person. Today wasn’t the day to do that. So, he’d take his victories, as tiny as they are, one at a time.

“Thank you,” he said, standing up. “Now, what kind of pizza do you want?”

“Whatever you want is fine,” Tim answered.

Dick didn’t sigh, not really. He knew Tim’s favorite was pineapple and ham. He’d order that, even if his favorite was plain old cheese.


End file.
